Despite my seemingly insatiable desire for crap in my life (e.g., last night's entry on reality TV), there's a twinge of encouragement when I notice that there are some destructive things of which I'm simply tired. God's contstant status as defendant in the court of human affairs is one.

Make no mistake—I am exceedingly grateful to have a God to whom I can cry out in confusion, who can bear my frustrations with grace and love. Nor do I take issue with questioning Him to know Him better—that's a vital process of the examined life, and I'd be concerned for anyone who doesn't do this, or who ever stops. He can handle all of that, without a doubt. Indeed, He invites it.

He isn't, however, a concept to be picked apart. He is God. If He's getting more of my questions than my worship, I have misunderstood who He is and who I am. When that goes further and He is indicted on charges born of my discontentment, that misunderstanding has begun to bloom into subtle rebellion.

God has responded to all the unfair accusations on the cross. Every one. On that cross, Jesus cried out, "Tetelestai!" ("It is finished!" or "Paid in full!"). And by the resurrection the Father has declared Jesus not guilty, now and for eternity. That He shares this verdict with me and makes me not guilty in the same stroke is mercy beyond comprehension. Perhaps this is why I shudder when He is dragged back into court daily. We are the only guilty ones, and look what He did with that!